


About Robb

by ann_and_white_elephant



Series: The Mother of Monarchs [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Catelyn Lives, F/M, Gen, King's Landing, Multi, Robb Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 14:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann_and_white_elephant/pseuds/ann_and_white_elephant
Summary: Robb survives the Red Wedding and destroys his enemies. Living after, however, might be a whole another matter. (Works as a stand-alone story).Five children, kings and queens. And one who was no son of hers.  Five + one AUs series.





	1. About Robb 1/1

Blood and rain, that was all that became of the world. There must have been horses and men and muddy ground, but for hours it seemed to her as if there was nothing but blood and rain. Slowly Catelyn became aware that they were riding. Her and Robb and no more than twelve others. They rode whole night and when the first horse gave up under its rider, they did not even slow down. Only when Robb's own brown gelding stumbled and fell down, the men stopped and hurried to help their king.

Catelyn herself hopped from her horse and run to her son too. She was terrified that after death and treachery they barely avoided she would lose her last child to a mishap mere hours later. That would be most cruel, but she had lost any faith in mercy of gods. Breath returned to her lugs only as Robb slipped from under the dead animal and stood up by his own force. Myriads of drops were washing away blood from small cuts on his face creating thin pink trails. Other ways he seemed unhurt, only his iron crown slipped from his head and landed few feet away from him. Robb walked to it and took it from the ground. He watched at it silently for a long heavy moment. Rain falling and breath of horses made for the only sounds. A fury appeared at young king’s face. With savage force he threw the crown back into mud.

"Your Grace..." a young Blackwood knight dared to speak as the first.

"Leave me!" Cat’s son ordered.

"But... " Wendel Manderly began but quieted quickly when he saw the look on his king's face.

"LEAVE ME! ALL... OF... YOU!' Robb shouted his voice hoarse and full of anger and despair. If the Grey Wind was there, the beast would be barring its teeth and snarling. The direwolf was dead, though. Killed at Twins by a betrayal which was supposed to end her son's life. So many others perished. Dacey Mormont, Smalljon Umber, Lucas Blackwood.

The remaining members of Robb's reunite gave each other uncertain looks. Only when the king looked at them as if he was to repeat his order, they turned and slowly walked from him disappearing in the forest. Cat could hear their steps on the mud, men and horses, they did not stop far.

She herself just stood there waiting to be sent away as the rest of them, yet not prepared to move. Cold rain was falling heavily soaking her to her bones. It almost felt as if it was always so always would be, as if this rain was supposed to last until the end of the world. 

Robb turned to her. She could almost hear his words sending her away, but his lips did not move. Instead he seated himself on the ground at the base of a nearby three. It was an oak, slim and not old but dead. Cat tried not to linger upon the image. Her son put his head into his hands. When he finally looked up his face was dead-pale in the sunless rainy morning.

"I should have died. I deserve to be dead,” Robb’s voice was full of pain. They never landed a cut, but in that moment, Cat understood that Roose Bolton and Walder Frey had managed to hurt her son all the same. If she could she would have killed each of them hundred times.

"Do not speak so," she told her last son desperately "If you bear me any love, don't ever speak so, there is nothing that would cause me more pain than your death, Robb"

He straightened and looked at her entirely lost.

"I am sorry for that, mother. I am sorry for everything. For father and Arya and Sansa. For sending Theon to Pyke and Winterfell. For Bran and Rickon and marrying Jeyne. For the Twins and all the men who died there. Gods, it must be thousands of them dead because of me!" His voice gave up and his head once again slumped between his hands.

She could feel his pain, but now was not the time to be sorry, now was time to fight and live and fight for living at whatever cost. She had to make him understand.

"You must withstand till the end, no matter what. Think what would happen to Jeyne if you lost. Westerlings were Lord Tywin's bannermen, remember Reynes of Castamere."

"Death would be better, more merciful for both of us." Robb answered coldly. "I cursed myself and I cursed her, when all I wanted was to save her honor. I don't know how I would be even able to look at her anymore. But maybe it's for the best. If I had an heir, what legacy would I leave to that cursed child?"

"Stark name if nothing else. Yours father's name. Do you wish to be the one to doom a bloodline eight thousand years old?!"

"I’ve already lost, mother. There is nothing to be done for that."

Catelyn could have smacked him in that moment for all the grown man and king he was. "Then run. Be a coward and run, but don't give up upon a life I gave you. Flee across the Narrow see as Daemon Blackfyre and Viserys Targaryen did. If you can’t be a king, be at least my son."

"I can no longer be one without the other."

Words failed her. She would do anything for her children, but sometimes all she could do was nothing and that was hardest of all. Catelyn waited while cold rain embraced her. She knew, that if her son would not find it in himself to stand up and be the king again, all was lost.

***

_The following year._

Seven rotting heads remained speared above battlement of the Red Keep. Rot and scavengers had danced with them for months, stealing flesh and hair and color. Once, Catelyn had known their faces well. Alive or dead they were common visitors in her dreams. But today, as she looked at them in that chill air, she was no longer sure if Ser Ilyn was the one to the most right, or the one next. Was Lancel in the middle, was it Joffrey? Lord Tywin’s head had been sent to Dorne as a goodwill to their allies, but the rest she could no longer tell them apart. None but two.

The Imp's skull was unnaturally big and misshapen. Even as crows made off with all his flesh, he was impossible to overlook. To the little man’s left throned his siste, Queen Cersei. A sparrow had made a shelter of her eye-hole. Her bones were as white as her brothers, but stubbornly one last patch of long blond hair remained below a temple. It swung greasily in the breeze. It should had fallen of long ago, Catelyn thought grimly, but the winter had come and they had not seen thaw since.

_It had gone on long enough_. _I should tell Robb to bring them down._ _We had our vengeance. It is time to look forward where we are walking, or we will crash right into a wall and knock off all our teeth._ Yet, if Catelyn had learned anything since her son's army scaled walls of Maegor's Holdfast, it was that nothing was as easy as that. Why she even came here? _Because you though, you could escape the suffocating of the castle, fool woman_, some annoying voice seemed to answer. It sounded too much like Tyrion Lannister. 

The solar was a stark dim room. Not big for king’s daily chamber, but the scarceness of furniture made it appear larger. There was table of dark oak, a chair behind it and three in front of it. Sole window penetrated the walls. The table showed sights of age and use. Sphynxes carved at its legs had eyes of lapis lazuli, but they looked rather tattered and one winked with a sole blue eye. The chairs at least would be more befitting the royal splendor, were they not all a different shape. The simple glassing of the window was the only thing Catelyn’s son had remade new. A motif of lions hunting had been taken down and melted. The window was open, as always, no matter the cold, yet the room was never anything but dim. The window faced a high outer wall. It was turned to north and that was all that mattered to the man sitting behind the desk. What he might have still longed for, was too far away to see.

The king was as common part of the chamber as the furniture. Catelyn watched her son intently. Little did he resemble the young boy who had laughed with his brothers so freely before Robert Baratheon had come to Winterfell. Neither was he the man who shouted in despair after he had lost his army to vile murderers at Red Wedding. He no longer shouted at all. But he neither ever laughed or cried. He was clean-shaven, and not too thin, yet there was something unhealthy and haggard about his face all the same.

“Be seated, mother," he greeted her. She chose the chair to the right, closest to the window, leaving one place empty between herself and another visitor.

It was just as well she did not arrive first. Lord Wyman Manderly had little choice in his own seating arrangements. He was occupying a solid iron piece without armrests, the only chair in the room which could hope to accompany his enormous girth.

What brings you here, mother?" Robb asked.

“Nothing of great hurry. It can wait until Lord Wyman finishes his matter.”

“If you wish, My Lady" The fat Lord of White Harbor bowed his head respectfully, “I brought tidings from the Twins.” The Twins had been a sore point for Robb. He had to let that place be if he hoped to prevail after the Red Wedding. ”As you know me and mine had taken the lead of the siege recently after lord Blackwood's unexpected departure." Lord Wyman continued.

_One son in front of Dreadfort the other at Twins._ It had been White Harbor’s ships which had taken Lannisport even before Lord Tywin knew his foe was still alive. Catelyn would be forever grateful for lord Wyman's help, but she felt unsettled too. The man knew no restrain be it in food or power. _Who would have thought that the man such as Tytos Blackwood could die of something as trifle as small cut?_ After all fearsome foes he had survived, it was an overlooked piece of rusted iron which become his end. It cut his boot and his feet and before he even though to seek a master, fever had taken a hold of him. 

"Has the time came to storm the castle?" the king asked.

“Might be," Lord Manderly answered lightly, "but I would not recommend so just yet. With Lord Walder dead we are no longer besieging one castle but two in truth. Edwyn holds one tower, Black Walder the other. Each would sooner swim to Skagos than to ally with another. Both had already repelled the kin they thought unfaithful or useless. We gained thirty-seven hostages directly of Lord Walder's blood. Might be there will be more. Black Walder holds Edwyn's daughter. He might be willing to part with her if we allow him retreat. The girl is her father's heir and Edwyn is the older of the two.

“The Frey succession matters none." The king’s voice was harsh. “They will keep nothing. Instruct Wendel to send the hostages to King's Landing. Men, women, children, babes. If they are old enough to talk, they will be questioned."

“Sharply?" Lord Wyman asked. Catelyn was not fooled by his jovial tone. The man had almost lost a son to Walder Frey's treachery and he had not forgotten.

"That remains to be seen." Once Catelyn would have sworn that Robb would never harm children, no matter what their kin did. But that seemed lifetime ago. “I mean to have another bridge build.” Robb continued unaware of her thoughts.” From whatever plunder we will get after we have the castle. From the stones themselves if necessary. I do not mean to leave so much power to one fort.”

“As his grace wishes.” Lord Manderly intertwined his fingers above his massive belly." There is also the matter of the ships. Dragonstone was garrisoned lightly, and we gained the Arbor and Tart without fight, but the Iron Islands remain a threat.” He turned to Catelyn" And, I hope my lady will forgive me, but so does the Vale.”

“My sister, her son and her new husband, are on the way to the King's Landing as we speak. Prepared to swear fealty and bend the knee." Catelyn opposed, though she was less than certain where Lysa truly stood.

Lord Manderly was not convinced. “I have no doubt that your gracious sister is our ally, my lady. But should we trust Lord Baelish? He served Lannisters for a long time. It is hard to believe that he knew nothing of their falsehood."

"I understand your concern about our sea power and Ironborn, Lord Manderly." Robb interfered, "However, for now we do not have means to build a new fleet. Still, I do not mean to leave the Iron Islands be. I could never. The Braavosi finally settled on a new Sealord. The man had agreed to send an envoy. One way or another they might just hold the solution.”

Catelyn looked at her son. His face gave so little away. The decision was a reasonable one, yet she knew that Robb had not forgot or forgave Theon's betrayal. Vengeance and grief were all that kept him going. Instead of burning quick and hot as once it might, now it moved slow and unstoppable as an iceberg. Lord Manderly was easier to read. He was displeased. This Braavosi alliance would bring him little, yet he knew better than object loudly.

“My Lord,” The king began, “there is another matter I wish to discuss. I have yet to receive an answer for my message to the Wall.” With Sansa married to an ally, Catelyn was able to convince her son to change his decision about his heir. Still, she came to suspect that Robb did not give up his plan to have his bastard brother at his side. “If you could, please send a group with a message from White Harbor.”

“As his grace commands. With your leave I shall return to my duties now.” The Lord of White Harbor had just begun a painfully slow process of removing himself from his seat, when an announcement of another visitor interrupted him. With a heavy thud the man lowered himself back on the chair.

Soft rustling of skirts and smell of rose water accompanied Margaery Tyrell as she entered. Her gown of dark blue samite was simpler than the pieces she wore as Renly's queen. It somehow resembled a garb of a northern lady, without quit being one. It suited the young woman marvelously. Catelyn suspect there was nothing negligent to it, or to pink of her lips. _And once I though her to be just a sweet girl, more fool me_, Catelyn mused.

The Rose of Highgarden walked into the room and greeted them in a soft, pleasant voice.

Robb's success in Lannisport had been the first taste of victory after the Red Wedding, but it was only the kidnapping of the Tyrell maid which weighed the fortune to their side. _Such a dishonorable act_, but there had not been any other way. _And we could not look back or we would be lost_.

After the Lannisport, they had gained enough gold to hire more swords, but not nearly enough to threated Highgarden. Especially with the siege of the Rock. In the end, it might be that they lived only by the Old Lion’s mistake. Lord Tywin halted the relief forces until Joffrey’s wedding. Long enough to send a small band to the Kingswood to wait for the future queen to wander outside of the city gates. It did not go without a bloody fight. Loras Tyrell proved his right to the white cloak, killing no less than six men, but in the end both him and his sister were taken hostages.

Mace Tyrell was not a man who could keep calm when they held his two favorite children. They might have gotten anything from him, but for his grandmother. Still, a pact was made in secret. When a small force of rivermen and northmen rode to capitol, they joined an already won battle. The Tyrells got their rewards for this service. Robb had been openhanded with what he never thought his. Two places at council, quarter of Lannisport incomes, third of the plunder of the of Casterly Rock once they claimed the castle and half of the lands of the West to be added to the Reach. Catelyn was sure that Robb would have been forced to marry Margaery too, were he not already pledged.

Lady Margaery seated herself and granted both her king and Lord Manderly with sweetest of smiles. At the beginning the Tyrells still fished if there was a chance Robb would put Jeyne aside, but of late the Tyrell girl had found another object of interest. And indeed, playing bold in front of her king she offered her dainty hand to Lord Manderly to be kissed. The Lord of White Harbor obliged with a boyish grin. He knew the girl’s game, Catelyn did not doubt, and Lady Margaery was not the one to miss the fact. Yet, both seemed to find some genuine thrill in the chase. To what end, she was uncertain. Lord Manderly was well born, wealthy and influential, but he had two grown sons and granddaughters by the older. And Catelyn very much doubted that any desires of flesh were involved. Wyman Manderly was older than Margaery’s own father and the fattest man in King’s Landing besides. 

“I hope my interruption is not a bother for valiant lord Manderly.” Margery bat her thick eyelashes and even managed a faint blush. “I received a joyful tidings from Highgarden. I thought to share them at once. My brother Willas writes that Lady Sansa is with child.”

A mongrel of emotions sprouted in Catelyn’s heart. Surprise, fear, guilt. Anger. She should have been told by Sansa, not this Tyrell girl. But Catelyn could not claim to be surprised. She knew better than to wonder about ravens lost.

Her reunion with her daughter began with relief. Catelyn had been afraid that the Lannisters might harm Sansa and she had not been wrong. At the end of the battle Cersei had barricaded herself with her younger son in one of the towers and she managed to drag Sansa with them. When all seemed lost the Lannister woman had her own son drink poison, but she had more gruesome end prepared for Catelyn's child. A noose hung from a balcony. If Greatjon broke the door any minute later, Sansa would have been dead. Seeing her daughter again, crying and laughing with relief had been one of the very few moments of happiness Catelyn felt since Ned’s death. It did not last.

Catelyn looked at her hands. Suddenly the room seemed too small and too crowded, or maybe it was herself she could not stand.

Sansa did not wish to marry again, but Catelyn had no choice. The union was needed to seal the alliance. Not a fortnight after the battle, once Sansa’s Imp husband had been made even shorter by Robb’s sword, Sansa had been sent to Highgarden. The marriage to Willas Tyrell took place the day following her arrival. Sansa had not forgiven them yet. Her messages ever since had been sparse and not a word longer than they had to be. _Have I sacrificed happiness of one child for another? _Catelyn mused unhappily. If so, she had made a poor trade. She was not sure it was in Robb to be happy again.

Even now his eyes barely held more feeling than the stone eyes of carved sphynxes. In certain light even the color seemed similar. “Very well,” the king answered in formal voice “I will send them a gift once the child is born."

“You are kind, your grace. But if I could be so bold, I would suggest a tourney too. If the child is a boy, he will be the heir to Highgarden.” Lady Margaery continued. “There had always been a tourney for the first-born son of the Tyrell line. And it had been so long since we held tourney here or at my home."

“We are still hard pressed by war, my lady." The king reminded the girl. “Dreadfort and the Twins remain under siege. So does Casterly Rock. And we have hardly even bloodied the Ironborn. It is too soon to plan anything, and the child might be a girl besides.” _Or the birth might go wrong_. Sansa was very young. Much younger than Cat had been when she birthed Robb.

The king’s mouth twitched, and Catelyn thought that maybe he had tried for smile, but did not quit managed it. “However, there is a wisdom to your words. We northmen are unused to tourneys. But alas, I am no longer just the king in the North. I should not forget. If there is a peace upon the child's first nameday, I will hold the tourney in my own name. At Highgarden, as is your custom, if it will be a boy. At King’s Landing, if my sister births a daughter.”

Margaery’s smile was wide enough to show half of her pretty teeth. “My family will be glad to hear your decision, your grace.”

It seemed that that was all the Tyrell maid came to share, but Robb stopped her when she announced her leave. “Lady Margaery, one more thing. Our alliance was not born easily. I would not make a fool of either of us and call things by false names. When we first met, you were my hostage. Since then your family has proven their worth. You have my leave to depart King's Landing, if you wish.”

The words did not surprise Catelyn. The issue had been broached at the council meetings and outside. And now when their pact was sealed not just by a marriage but a promise of a child, the king could allow a display of trust. Besides, despite her son's declaration of honesty, there remained one unsaid fact. Margaery was not the only child of the Lord of Highgarden Robb had in his power. Ser Loras kept his white cloak and sworn the third oath to the third king. By his own wow the knight would remain at his king's disposal for the rest of their lives.

“Thank you, your grace.” The Tyrell girl bowed in the gesture of gratitude, but then she acted bold again. “Do I have your leave to marry again too?” she asked.

“If there is anyone you are considering wedding, you have my permission to present the name. Is there such a man?”

Could there be, Catelyn wondered. Of the lords and heirs of the remaining great houses the Tyrells were most unlikely to approach the Martells. Besides Prince’s Doran heir was his daughter, Princess Arianne. Edmure was already married and that wretched Frey girl even birthed him a son. Robert Arryn was a child weak of both body and mind, not likely to sire his own offspring. Robert's heir was some handsome young knight from a minor house. But the Tyrrells were no minor house themselves. If they proposed a betrothal it could be understood in one way only - they did not expect king's own cousin to live till adulthood. _No, they will wait a little longer_, Catelyn decided. For Sweetrobin to die, or maybe for some misfortune for the queen. The king was married but had no children yet. _And he is unlikely to get any from his current marriage_, a voice added gloomily.

A faint blush appeared on Margaery’s cheeks as she confirmed Catelyn’s thoughts. The girl gave a side glance to Lord Manderly, but he seemed to watch the exchange with amusement, rather than worry. _No, she will not marry yet_. Even if Margery began her stay at the new court as a hostage, now there was hardly a highborn lady to rival her standing. Least of all the queen, who held the title in the name only.

One of the Kingsguard entered to announce another visitor. For a moment Catelyn was not sure if she wasn’t still hearing her own thoughts. “The queen,” the knight announced. The faces of the other chamber’s occupants must have shown same confusion. After a seemingly eons-long time the knight added awkwardly: “Queen Jeyne.” If he was claiming that Aegon the Dragon came back to life, they might have been less surprised.

Robb had left the girl in Riverrun during his campaign and never called her back. Queen Jeyne had arrived in King’s Landing on her own insistence. The Westerling girl had been granted a chamber, comfortable and spacious, but far away from the king. It had become the castle's gossip quickly that the king avoided her as a plague. And the woman herself was rarely seen without eyes swollen from crying. It had gone on for some time before Robb granted castle Stokeworth to Westerlings. Far enough not to see his wife, but not so far that it could be called exile. The queen had not returned to the Red Keep since.

Robb did not look as if he had any wish to see her now. His face paled, the veins on his neck bulged and hands set in fits hard. For a moment, Catelyn thought he will refuse the audience. In the end, he gave the guard a stiff nod.

Though they were the same age, both brown of eye and brown of hair, it seemed almost impossible that there could be two more different highborn maids then the pair that found itself in the solar. Where Margaery entered in a lively step with a smile that turned shy or wicked at her command, Jeyne's walk was as stiff and awkward and her face solemn. Margaery's dress was blue, Jayne wore red. Both gowns were cut from best fabrics and sewn by skilled mistresses. Yet where Margaery’s fit her as a second skin, Jeyne's hung too loose is if she had lost weight since it had been measured.

Jeyne’s eyes remained turned to the floor even as she greeted her husband quietly, but her voice did not tremble.

“My lady.” Robb returned the greeting. He did not even call her queen. 

“I came upon a behalf of my sister.” Jeyne began when she finally gathered a strength to speak. She blushed as the words came out. Once it might have been pretty on her face, now it just drawn attention to pale, almost greenish cast of her skin. “Eleyna had been unwise. She had been helping to take care of the wounded lording who had a mishap at the horse near Stokeworth lands and she allowed the man too much."

The words hung heavy in the air. The tale resembled all too much another story they all knew well. Catelyn wondered if it had been Sybell Westerling who send her daughter here. If so, the woman was not just cruel to her own child but a fool too.

“And what was this lad's name?” Lord Manderly came to rescue when his king struggled to find words.

“Horas Redwyne.”

“The heir of the Arbor and my own cousin.” Lady Margaery added. “Are you sure it was Horas and not Hobber? It is a feat to tell the two apart. When I was eight, I forced my brother Loras to spill broth on Hobber’s doublet, so I would stop confusing them."

For the first time Jeyne straightened as she looked at the Tyrell girl angrily. “Quite sure, my lady. _I_ know which one is which, even without spilled soup. And so does my sister.” Fire crackled in Jeyne’s haunted eyes, giving them some life, but her husband’s words were barely any kinder than those of Lady Margaery.

“Your sister truly acted most foolishly, but I don’t know how I can help the matter.”

“Surely your grace can put a word with Lord Paxter to allow them to marry.”

"Has the lord of Arbor refused to make recompense?" Catelyn asked quickly when she saw the storm gathering in Robb's eyes. If she let him speak now, he would regret it later.

The queen averted her gaze. “He would allow Eleyna to marry, but not his heir. He offered Horas’ younger brother.”

“Then I truly do not see where the problem lies.” Margaery Tyrell did not keep all reproach from her voice.

“The match is surely acceptable.” Lord Manderly added more kindly.

Jeyne paid no mind to either of them, her eyes were on the king. “Robb, please! You remember, how it is. You must. It is not Hobber whom Eleyna loves."

“Love is no less weakness of mind of young than forgetfulness is for old.” Robb’s voice was harsh. “I learned that lesson too late for my sorrow. Lord Paxter's offer is more than generous. Your sister would do better to do her duty and atone for her folly. Lord Manderly, please make sure Lady Jeyne is prepared to return to Stokeworth as soon as possible. Lady Margaery, keep her company in the meantime. My Lady is not familiar with the castle.”

Jeyne Westerling let herself to be lead out meek and defeated. The girl no longer battled her tears. When only two of them remained in the solar Robb stood up and walked to the window. “Do you want to hear that marrying Jayne was the biggest mistake I have ever made, and that I know it now."

_No, I want to hear you laugh a jest and make plans for future with hope in your words. _But such was not the fate of kings. “You can't change mistakes you had made, Robb. But you can stop yourself from doing new ones. Eleyna's marriage to Hobber is more than Westerlings could have hoped for. They should have never asked for more, but you were too harsh with Jeyne. You cannot keep pushing her away forever. Whatever the circumstances of your marriage, she is your wife now and the only woman who can give you an heir.”

“I have never wanted this. Not to be called the king in the North and even less the Iron Throne. I would have refused to remain here if I didn’t need that power to destroy my enemies. Lannisters are almost done but for the Kingslayer and the girl in Dorne Martell's are keeping as a trophy. I swear to any gods willing to listen that Freys and Boltons will follow soon.”

“I want them dead as much as you, but what would happen once they are gone? In ten years, in fifty?”

“I do not bloody care. No, mother, once I’ve done what I have to I mean to end this farce. I want to return North to wait till my bones could nest it crypts among my forebearers. Might be, one day thousands years from now they will even forgive me my failures. The Moonboy can sit the Iron Throne for all I care.”

"A splendid plan," Catelyn answered icily. “But what of Sansa? Have you spared a though what will happen to your sister if our alliance with Tyrells falls apart?”

“I am sorry.” He answered defeated.

"Damn, Robb! Don’t be sorry, be a man. You don’t need to love Jeyne, you don’t need to even like her, but you need to get a child on her. Does it require so much bravery to face your own wife?!”

“I can't! I simply can’t. She should not have come here today. Every time I hear her voice drums start pounding in my ears as loudly as at the Twins. Every time she is near, I smell blood just as clearly as her perfume. Every time I see her face it changes to Dacey’s as she was dying with a gash in her belly. Just a mention of Jeyne’s name and I am back in Riverlands fleeing from the Wedding." For once the stone face he had donned showed a crack, but underneath lied only misery. “Please leave me alone, mother. I will speak with you at the morrow. And tell the guards I will receive no more visitors for the rest of the day.”

Catelyn put a hand on his arm, but he stepped away from her. Closing the door softly she left him to his demons.

Half-way through the corridor, she saw a page hurrying her way. “Are you coming to the king?” Catelyn stopped the boy. His face was familiar, she had seen him few times already, but she could not recall his name.

“Yes, My lady.” The lad answered eagerly. His eyes were bulging with excitement. "One of the gold cloaks recognized the Kingslayer at the ship heading for Essos. They docked here to repair the damage caused by a storm. Lord Umber was nearby and almost killed the Lannister, when he heard, but now they dragged him to the cells.”

No matter how hard she fought it, Catelyn could not entirely quench the hope in her heart. “Was he alone?"

“No, my lady, there have been a boy and a woman. They got mixed in the fight. The boy was taken the master, he might live, or might not. The woman is dead.”

_Brienne. Gods be good, what have we done? “_The boy,” Catelyn kept asking. Small part of her could not help to hope and fear. Arya had been oft mistaken for a boy at Winterfell," who was he?”

“The woman's squire. Pot, I think, was his name. My lady, I must hurry now. The king must be told at once.”

“He must.” She agreed. “But he ordered not to be disturbed. I will tell him myself. It is better to be me than you who angers him.”

The page looked disappointed that such an important and exciting task had been taken from him, but he could hardly refuse her She was still the king's mother._ I am doing him a kindness. Who knows in what fool mood he would have found my son._

Robb stood as she had left him by the open window staring at a blind wall.

“Mother, I ordered not to be disturbed.” He told he harshly.

“I know, " she allowed. “There are some tidings you must hear. Jaime Lannister was caught in the harbor. They had taken him to dungeons.”

Without reply the king stormed from the solar. She had to run to keep up. Two of the white clocks followed them in respectable distance. They were rushing to the black cells and the guards were letting them pass with deep bows.

Despite it still being a bright day, the floor of the dungeons was only lit by torches. There should be no other prisoner at the nonce, yet the place still stank of mud, blood and shit.

“Stay here.” Robb ordered her when a turnkey opened the last corridor leading to the black cells. She had no choice but to obey. The turnkey had heard the king's words and even if she could outwit him, what would she gain? Robb walked towards the cells his guards following him and she could bear other voices too. Greatjon she guessed and some other lords of highest standing.

“Robb," she called after her son at the last moment, “let him talk first.”

When Robb returned his hair was damped by sweat. She glimpsed few specks of red among auburn too. There was more blood on his hands, though it seemed that he had tried to wipe it. His doublet, which had been grey was now half red. If he had told her that the Kingslayer was already dead, she would not be surprised at all.

“He had nothing useful to tell, mother. I will take his head on the morrow at the square." With that the king left, his guards and lords following. Catelyn was the last one to depart. _There would be no putting the heads down now_, she thought abruptly when she remembered what she came to tell Robb that morning. _Not when we are about to add another one._


	2. About Robb – Short Stories

**Brienne**

She met the woman at Maidenpool in the Stinking Goose. The tavern looked bad and smelled worse, but they needed the coin. And if they needed the coin, they had to sell the horses. That was easier said than done. They were outlaws. Brienne could no longer fool herself otherwise. Lady Catelyn might have released Jaime, but she had done so behind King Robb's back. The king himself took heads of Jaime's kin quickly enough.

_All the roads are closing for us, _Brienne thought. They had to leave Westeros. They had agreed to sail to Pentos, there was nothing for them here. No king to guard. Tommen and Joffrey were dead and Lannisters had fallen. No lost girls to find. Lady Sansa had reunited with her family and Arya Stark was dead like as not.

Brienne might have been pardoned herself and allowed to return home, but not Jaime. And Podrick had been the Imp’s squire and kin to the former King’s Justice. There was no place for them under King Robb Stark.

To their luck, Lord Randyll was not at Maidenpool at the nonce, but Brienne had almost run into Hyle Hunt. They could not go to an honest trader. Instead Brienne had to find one who wouldn’t ask too many questions.

The woman had a pinched face and unpleasant high voice. They agreed to meet outside the town's gates an hour after dusk. _Just as well, at least I won't be alone_. Brienne had cut her hair and Pod even came up with an idea to patch half her face as if she was injured. All to better pass her for a man, but she did not dare to bring her companions with her.

The trader came as promised. The woman was none too pleased that Brienne was not alone. She gifted Pod barely a glance but eyed Jaime with distrust. Jaime was wearing a deep hood, so only his mouth and shaggy beard were visible. A stuffed glove was hiding the missing swords hand. “My boys are not far, good with crossbows all of them, don’t try anything stupid,” the woman warned them.

"We want to trade, nothing more," Brienne assured her. The woman snorted, but quickly moved to inspect the horses. Brienne and Jaime had good horses. They had come to them by the most unhonest means. When Lord Bolton's men heard about Robb Stark surviving the Red Wedding and marching again, they abandoned them without any care and better hurried back to Dreadfort. The soldiers left them with nothing. After days of walking Jaime managed to snatch two horses and some weapons from two knights sleeping by a fire. Brienne still felt horrible for that, but Jaime only told her after two days and then it was too late. Pod's horse was his own and looked the part. The woman eyed it with a deep frown. “I can give you ten stags for that wretch, boy, but only because the times are bad. Maybe twelve if I take her to a butcher.”

Pod winced, but Brienne put a firm hand on his shoulder. They needed the coin.

At least they got more for the other two. Enough to get to Pentos, if they were lucky to find a ship without being caught. Brienne knew better than to ask the woman, but the trader guessed anyway. “Take two silvers from the price and might be I tell you where to wait at Saltpans.”

“Saltpans? The town was burned. "Jaime objected with suspicion.

“Eye. I myself left not a day before the Mummers came.” The woman spat.” Bloody business. Might have been looking at a grass from below. But Tarly's worse. Won’t let the good folk be. Some captains would stop by Saltpans too. You can’t burn the sea.”

“You were at Saltpans before the raid?" Brienne blurted. Jaime remained quiet, but she knew that he must be recalling their strange detour to Quiet Isle and Elder Brother’s words just like her. They had been shocked when the healer told them that Arya Stark had survived the slaughter of her father’s men and fled to Riverlands. Though the Elder Brother believed that she had died at Saltpans.

Their companion was squinting at them suspiciously. “Eye, I was there. What of it?" _Have you seen a girl of ten with plain face?_ Brienne might have asked, but out of silks Lady Arya looked no different than hundreds other girls. _And the woman might just lie_. _Tell us whatever she thinks we wish to hear._

Jaime knew it too. “With whom did you traded then?” He asked, sounding as commanding as Brienne had ever heard him.

The woman just scowled fiercely. “Do I have a mouth bigger than my head? Would you want me to tell the next one what you three looked like and that you would not enter town like decent folk?"

“Six silver stags for whatever the truth is.” Jaime did not give up. “We don’t need the names, or much else. Just how many were men or women. Were they alone or together.”

Even if the woman hesitated, in the end it did not take long. “Seven or eight, them were men. Soldiers, or sellswords might be. Came in groups of two or three. One was Sally, the Dry Will's wife with her nephew. The last one was a girl. She came alone.”

“A girl, what did she look like?”

“You ask again. That was no what we agreed.” The woman put hands on her hips.

“Eleven more stags,” haggled Jaime. “And leave nothing out.” _We will need to sell our weapons too_, Brienne thought unhappily, but she wished to hear the answer just as much. 

“A stick of a girl. Nine or ten, with short hair and dirty boy's clothes. Knew how to sit the horse, that one, but a gutter rat all the same. I have one of my boys following her. She took off on a ship." _And if she didn’t, your son would have taken the money back behind some abandoned barn,_ Brienne thought darkly.

“Do you know her name? Not the girl’s name. The ship’s?” Pod spoke for the first time. 

“Watt never came too close. He swore the brat knew how to watch her back. Besides, he could not read a piss, but he saw the sails. They were purple.”

“What of it?” Brienne did not understand.

“The city," Podrick blurted out excited. “The city has purple sails. Braavos!”

“Do you believe her?" Brienne asked Jaime, when they were alone again.

"I would have never believed Arya Stark could have made it alive from King's Landing. But she did. It might as well be truth. I must keep the wow. I thought I couldn’t, but if Arya Stark lives... We need to find her. We will keep our oaths.”

**Myrcella**

Areo Hotah was the one to tell her. Not Princess Arianne and not Prince Doran. Myrcella looked around bewildered and confused, searching for the friends she had made in Dorne. The faces she knew, but none looked friendly now.

_I have no friends here, I never had_, she realized suddenly just in the moment when she needed one the most.

It was a dry clear day in the Water Gardens. The Dornishmen complained of cold but Myrcella had found the weather pleasant. Only now she felt colder than when they had travelled north through the snow.

"I will lead you to your chamber, Lady Myrcella,” someone told her and she agreed meekly. _Lady_, she thought, _not princess._ _I am a princess no longer_, she remembered lightheaded, _not even a Lannister, or a lady in truth. Just some bastard._

The sandalwood door closed after her, still giving a faint smell despite age and use. Myrcella thought she might finally cry. Somehow, she could not.

_They are dead. I am alone and they are all dead._ Myrcella reminded herself again and again. Mother, Tommen, Joffrey, uncle Tyrion even grandfather. They were all dead. Robb Stark had killed mother, grandfather and uncle Tyrion by his own hand. 

Myrcella had thought the Stark boy so handsome once. She still recalled how warm his arm felt intertwined with hers and the dimple in his cheek, when he laughed with his younger brothers.

And mother… How could she. How could have anyone hurt someone like Tommen?

**Jeyne**

It was one of the smaller chambers of the castle. Like the rest, though richly furnished and comfortable, it lacked any hint of taste. Hunting trophies, shields and lances mixed with sparkling tapestries and an ornate hearth too big even for a room trice the size. Eleyna in her simple gown color of ivory should have stood up as a rare fresh flower here. But if Jeyne’s little sister was a flower, she was a sad and wilting one. She hunched unmoving as a statue at the cushioned bench below the window.

Jeyne sit by her and hugged her tightly.

Eleyna burst into tears. “I didn't do it on a purpose. And it was barely more than a kiss.”

“I know.” Jeyne reassured her. _Much less than I myself allowed_. But It had not been their mother who had found them or even Horas’ family, but the guests. The word would spread quickly. _World is not a fair place, especially not for women_.

Gently Jeyne caressed her sister’s arm, but Eleyna recoiled in pain. _How many other bruises does she have?_ Jeyne knew all too well that Sybell Spicer would not stop at sharp words, when it came to disciplining her daughters. And she had never been this angry with Eleyna before. _For all she has not right_. Jeyne felt the old anger rising. _I thought it was just a luck that we were left alone. I never knew she planned it all along. We were so young and overwhelmed by war. Does Robb know? Did he figured it out? Is it why he can’t even look at me? _

“I heard there was a raven from the Arbor.” Jeyne willed her mind away from her own griefs.

“Mother told me." There was no happiness in Eleyna's voice. "Lord Paxter would not allow me to marry Horas. Westerlings are too small a house and not important enough, even if you are the queen. He has other plans for his firstborn. Mother had been wroth at me for it. And at you too." That was a warning. Their mother went to the city and had not returned yet, but they would no doubt reunite soon. "She shouted that if Robb didn’t shun you now, Lord Redwyne would have never turned down the sister of the queen.”

_Mother is not wrong, not in this at least. _Jeyne studied Eleyna’s sad face, her insides filling with blame_. I shouldn’t have left_. But there was so little invitation for her from the other nobble houses. Foolishly she had hoped that escaping the castle might help her escaping her sorrows too.

Jeyne’s guilt and shame must have shown at her face, because Eleyna hurried to reassure her. “I don't blame you, Jeyne. Everyone, but not you. I know you love Robb. I know you would make him a good queen and wife If he allowed you."

_You must be the last one_, Jeyne thought bitterly, but Eleyna’s words warmed her all the same. _And here I thought I was the one who came to offer comfort._ “Is there anything I can do for you. Anything?” She asked her sister. “I know you love Horas, but in time there might be other good men for you. And if not, damn them all, I am the queen. I should have the right to arrange a marriage for my own sister. Or if you don't want to, you don't have to marry at all. It could be just the two of us. I can send mother back to Crag. Robb gave Stokeworth to me, not to her.”

Eleyna cracked a small smile at that plan, but Jeyne knew that was not the life her sister wished for.

"Thank you. But even if… “Eleyna remained quiet for a moment before she continued softly. ”Lord Paxter offered Hobber. Not without writing that honor and decency count for something in his house unlike some. But I think I should agree to the match. There won't be other such proposal. Will there?” She said the words sadly. Yet a hint of hope remained.

_She hopes I will tell her otherwise. She knows the truth, but she hopes I will tell her otherwise. And she would believe me, because she desperately wants to._ But the time for kind lies had passed, they were no longer children. Neither of them. Jeyne kept her silence and Eleyna sobbed.

“They are not so different after all, everyone keeps telling me.”

“I never will." Jeyne assured her.

Eleyna flung herself to her arms and began to cry. Jeyne soothed her. _There must be something, I can do, there must be..._ And then it came to her – Robb. The King could make lord Paxter change his mind. She had to try. Even if he did not wish to see her, for her sister’s sake, she had to try. _His heart cannot be from stone, he loved me once. _

**Oberyn**

Once again, he found himself drawn to the Imp's skull. Tyrion Lannister had pleaded, promised and threatened to save his life, but he might had as well talked to a chunk of ice. In the end, when the Imp saw that all was lost for him, he swore to confess all his family’s crimes and to give up all rights of house Lannister for one last wish. That much he was granted. At the day of the execution, he went the last. Tyrion Lannister had been allowed to watch his father and sister die.

“Was it worth it?" Prince Oberyn asked the bones. _Would I trade my own life to watch the old lion die screaming?_ _And Gregor Clegane._ Maybe. It would make Ellaria sad and the little snakes would go angry. Fortunately, he would not have to find out. His spies had proven their worth and the Dornishmen managed to leave the city before the battle and the Tyrell betrayal. They had returned for Lannisters’ beheading. Just in time to spit into Lord Tywin’s face. Not an act stiff Robb Stark approved off, but that was a part of modest price Dorne asked for their alliance. Little vengeance, some lands, some offices, pretty little Myrcella as a hostage, Lord Tywin's severed head and Ser Gregor. _Though I have yet to pluck that one from Harrenhal. _He would, Oberyn knew for certain. And then the Mountain’s head will join the remains of his master, decorating an alcove of Sunspear’s privy.

Did they get too little? The Tyrrells were spreading their influence at the new court as a grasping weed. _Only to reach too far._ _Fools, they don't know about the dragons._ Oberyn thought about his nephew Trystane on his way to Meereen. Did Doran send him a message to return home, to hasten, or to wait? Oberyn's brother had always been marvelous at waiting. Still, no matter what Doran did, or, more likely, did not do, one day the dragons would return to Westeros. And with them fire and blood. 

"What are you doing here again? A soft voice drawled.

The prince smiled to himself and turned to greet his paramour. Ellaria Sand stood before him, huddled head to heals in mink fur cloak and alluring as ever. There was apparently very little clothing underneath those furs.

“My love, what brings you here? I know how little you like the weather.”

“As little as an empty cold bed." Came the rebuke, but her words held no true anger.

“Dearest one, if you find my habits too errand for your tastes, you are welcome to bring someone else to please you. Especially if you don’t mind sharing. I had always held nothing but admiration for your tastes.” Oberyn walked to her and took her hands to his. She wore silk gloves, but her fingers still felt cold.

“It had been more than a fortnight since we shared our bed with someone else." Ellaria reminded him softly. Truly, that was a long time.

“I thought you needed your time. To mourn the departure of Lady Lyra.” Of all the women who surrounded the new king, Oberyn had found the Mormont girl most to his liking. Ellaria loved her even more.

"Do you know why she left?” Oberyn’s lover asked sadly.

“I have my suspicion." And if he was right, in some moons there would be another little snake in the world, but it was too soon to speak of it. “I don't think we should press her to return.”

“No,” Ellaria agreed. “Yet...” She wetted her lips and Oberyn's eyes sparkled.

"A man this time?" he asked his love. Men were so prudish north the red mountains, even worse than women. But it had been too long, and the prince was not a one to avoid the thrill of pursuit. “Have you finally taken to the charms of our young king? Those blue eyes and auburn hair.” Oberyn smirked. "I hope not. He holds himself like a man fifty years his senior. I would go for someone more hot-blooded. Might be even little thorny.”

This time it was Ellaria who burst into a laughter. "Loras Tyrell? Beloved, you are over your head if you think Mace Tyrell's son would venture anywhere near your bedchamber."

_It would not be for the first time_. Oberyn was not thinking of Loras anymore. The kiss had been a mistake, Willas was a good friend. A remarkable man in ways the Dornishman never thought he would find admiring. Gentle and thoughtful, but with patience and determination so immense that it was almost frightening. The two of them were so different. And for good. If the heir of Highgarden had been any less forgiving, they might not have spoken again. A good friend, that was what Willas was and ever will be. Yet, drunk as Oberyn had been then, he was unlikely to ever forget that one kiss.

Of course, Ellaria knew. “Forgive me, love." She told him gently, when she guessed where his thoughts had strayed.

“There is nothing to forgive. You just reminded me that it had been too long since I have written to Willas.”

“You might wait a little longer,” quipped the minx again. "I am sure Willas would be glad to know his _brother_ is in good health and enjoying himself enormously.”

Oberyn laughed. He had not thought of that. Would Willas feel betrayed or amused? The prince did not mean to mistreat the younger Tyrell boy. He was no such man. But he was also a Dornishman and he had learned long ago that elsewhere people looked at love and coupling differently than in his homeland. Even men as remarkable as Willas. And there was something else, the way Ellaria said _brother._ There was a hidden meaning. I did not take Oberyn long to guess. Ellaria enjoyed to watch him bed other men and oft she would even join the pleasure, but her greatest passion lied elsewhere. If there was a Tyrell to be bedded, he knew well which one she would choose.

One of Oberyn’s hands found a way through the fastening of Ellaria’s cloak. There was some silk and a lot of warm smooth skin. He smirked. "You want the girl."

His paramour pouted. "She is so pretty.” Ellaria blushed saying the words. She rarely did so. It was a sign she desired something strongly. Past the good sense.

“She is cunning and ambitious too. Besides the girl despises me.”

“Do you think she despises me too?” Ellaria pouted again.

“A Dornishwoman, a bastard and my paramour? Love, I don't think your invitation to become her lady in waiting had been eaten by the castle’s cat."

“I can make her change her mind,” Ellaria declared resolutely.

_Way past the good sense. _“In this lifetime?" Oberyn teased just as his hand traveled between her legs.

Ellaria sighed softly but managed to grin. “Quicker than it would take you to sweeten our Knight of Flowers?"

Now that sounded like a deal. It remained Oberyn of the way they had first met in that small inn in the Planky Town. The misunderstanding, the jealousy and the final sweet reveal.

He brought her close to him, hoping she would feel his growing arousal even though all that annoying clothing. "I think we have a bet, my dearest."

They kissed.

The dragons might come one day and burn them all, or the winter would freeze them to death. But the Lannisters had fallen, and there was nothing stopping Oberyn from enjoying his life in the meantime.

**Jaime**

Blows and kicks keep coming. All the way to the cells. Jaime hardly even felt them. All he could think of was the blue of Brienne's eyes. It had changed just the slightest as she lied in a pool of her own blood at the ship's deck and her life had left her. It was the smallest of changes, yet it tore his world in two and send the pieces vast apart.

They left him alone. The heavy iron door locked behind him and Jaime was left to darkness.

The light came back together with Robb Stark. “Kingslayer.” The new king greeted him.

"She was innocent.” Jaime replied. It was all he wanted to tell him.

“Who?"

There were no words which could have made him despise the boy more. “Brienne of Tarth. Her blood is on your hands.”

“As is the blood of my men on yours.”

" She was innocent.” Jaime repeated. “All she did was to serve your mother.” The Lannister spat right into the king's face. For a Kingsguard he surely had an uncommonly distaste for kings.

Robb Stark repeated the courtesy with a fist into his face.

Numb, crippled, half-dead and chained as he was Jaime was still a fighter. He threw himself at the Stark. They should have clasped his chains to wall. But before Jaime could inflict much damage, the guards stormed in. More Kicks and blows followed, but now Jaime was the only one at the receiving end.

He lied on the stinking dump ground of the dungeon, his eyes blind with blood and his guts clawed by pain, when Robb Stark spoke again. “My mother released you desperate to get my sisters back, but you never kept your word. No Lannister ever did. Your brother forced Sansa to marry him and your sister was promising Arya in exchange when she was long dead.”

_Arya_. The name sparked a memory in Jaime’s unfocused mind. That was the girl, the sister. They had been trying to find her in Essos. _She might be alive_. Brienne would wish he told the Starks. Might be, there was a girl somewhere alone and lost. She was innocent of what her brother did, but Brienne had been innocent too. Jaime kept his silence.

**Robb**

“You did not put much of a fight.”

“No, I did not." Robb agreed. Where the calm came from? His chest did not feel this light in years. _It’s over. It’s finally over._ If there was any future ahead of him, he could start it without dwelling on the past. He felt no desire to cling to it. His crown, his glory, his wife... it had all turned sour long ago.

There was no last look back at the lands he would be leaving. His father's lands and his father father’s before. The lands ruled by Starks for eight thousand years. Since he had been a little boy, Robb was told it was his legacy. Now, leaving it behind, he felt nothing. If he turned, he would see a road, a pine forest and distant peaks of mountains. Today, there would be a trail in fresh snow and a group of armed men too. Mostly Unsullied and Dothraki. They had been ordered to escort him as far as this place. Robb did not turn.

A milestone marked the border of the New Gift. He walked past it, side by side with his brother. Jon's own men waited in some distance.

“You will need to start from the bottom. I can’t grant you any advantages because you were king or because we are a blood," Jon told him quietly.

"I would not wish it any other way.” It would require a lot of getting used to, Robb did not fool himself. He had never been any less than the heir of Winterfell.

Jon’s face softened. Robb felt lightheaded just looking at him. Myriad of details connected and distinguished this man and the boy whom he gave his farewells years ago. Same long face, same dark hair. But the scars around this man’s eyes were strange, so was the heaviness of his gaze. 

“I am sorry about what happened in King's Landing.” Jon continued. “And more about Riverlands and that you have to give up wife. But I am glad to have you here too. The Wall needs good men. More than you might know."

_I am here, whether I am a good man is a trickier question._ Things he had allowed to happen, things he had done… To his enemies and to the people he loved.

“Robb, any man I can get is a good man.” Jon seemed to guess his thoughts easily. Robb’s half-brother had been always a better judge of people. Would Jon had known what Roose and Walder were up to? Would he had shied from Jeyne’s bed? Would he had been a better king? 

“Hell,” Jon sighed with a solemn face, “right now I could think of ten good ways how to use Old Nan in a battle.”

Robb gave his brother and incredulous look and burst out in sudden laughter. A moment, and a surprised look later, the Lord Commander joined him.

**Author's Note:**

> The story was not beta-read. Feel free to point out any mistakes you spot.


End file.
